Incoming Tide

              Thirty seconds of yellow lichen.
Thirty seconds of coil and surge,
            fern and froth, thirty seconds
                         of salt, rock, fog, spray.
                                                               Clouds
moving slowly to the left―
            A door in a rock through which you could see
                                      ―
another rock,
                       laved by the weedy tide.
            Like filming breathing―thirty seconds
of tidal drag, fingering
             the smaller stones
                          down the black beach―what color
             was that, aquamarine?
Starfish spread
                         their salmon-colored hands.
                                     ―
            I stood and I shot them.
I stood and I watched them
            right after I shot them: thirty seconds of smashed sea
                         while the real sea
                            thrashed and heaved―
           They were the most boring movies ever made.
I wanted
                       to mount them together and press play.
                                     ―
           Thirty seconds of waves colliding.
Kelp
           with its open attitudes, seals
                        riding the swells, curved in a row
                        just under the water―
                                    the sea,
            over and over.
                                    Before it’s over.


Watching the Sea Go, by Dana Levin


Was off work today and spent part of the morning down by the shore avoiding the waves and trying to capture some motion for Mono Monday. It was pretty warm out - the first time I'd been out without wearing a hat in some time. I passed one person on the way back and she said, "The calm before the storm!" 

"Indeed!" I replied.

We'll see!